


Late for Work

by mongoosling



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Secret Relationship, Villetta sees evidence of something... spicy, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoosling/pseuds/mongoosling
Summary: Jeremiah Gottwald is NEVER later for work, and Villetta expresses concern. Will she regret doing so? Also, why is Lord Jeremiah in such a good mood?
Relationships: Jeremiah Gottwald/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Late for Work

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is technically based on an RP thread where Lelouch and Jeremiah had some secret sexy times... But I think it works as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by :)

She had called him to confirm that which she knew to be impossible.

Lord Jeremiah could NOT be lying dead in a ditch of some ghetto. It didn't matter that he’d been injured the previous day, the fact that he was late for work was merely a coincidence. While she was in on her superior’s habit of inflicting justice upon those deemed in need of it, she was also certain that even her boss wasn’t so stupid as to pick a fight with the amount of damage that had been inflicted on his generally capable body. 

Except... It wasn’t like him to be late, and Jeremiah Gottwald was not the type to oversleep. He had too many ambitions to waste even an hour on any distractions.

When the dial tones cut off, and his clipped voice filtered through the line her immediate reaction was relief– He wasn’t dead, as she’d known all along.

“I’ll be there within the hour,” he answered without pretext. “Make sure everything is in order.”

Then the line was cut off just as abruptly. Apparently, he was on his way. This relief was quickly overshadowed by annoyance, and Villetta snapped her own mobile shut with a huff. Lord Jeremiah rarely took such a tone with her. It hardly extinguished her naturally suspicious attitude, and she waited, following the vague orders, and holding down the fort in his absence. Waiting for the grand entrance, and an explanation.

As promised, he arrived within the hour. None of the other officers patrolling the halls seemed to notice anything different about him, they all had their own duties to perform and were focused on them. However, as Villetta strode forth to greet the margrave she began to notice the little discrepancies in his appearance. The first being his hair.

She’d once watched him preen before a mirror for forty-three minutes adjusting, and re-adjusting the part of his hair over and over, all because one strand refused to lie flat. Now, Lord Jeremiah’s hair was an absolute mess, by his standards anyway. With a sudden shock, she realized that this is what it had to look like this when he woke up. There was a moderate cowlick at the back, and the strands framing his face were laying flatter than usual. The bird's nest at his head was punctuated further by dark circles under his eyes, and the morning scruff lining his chin.

“Lord Jeremiah,” she greeted a subdued worry in her voice. “Are you alright?”

Jeremiah, to his credit did not seem thrown at all by her question.

“Quite fine, Villetta. I need to ask a favor of you,” At the least, his tone had changed from that initial morning phone call. It sounded almost pleasant.

“Right of course, what do you need?” She replied dutifully, doing her best to keep the curiosity from her features.

“Fetch me my spare uniform. I left it in one of the lockers downstairs.”

Villetta pursed her lips. Of course. Of all the tedious tasks and not even a thank you for her efforts this morning. Villetta Nu was no _assistant_. Seeing her expression, Jeremiah backtracked, apparently amused if the smirk at his lips was anything to go by.

“I’d get it myself, of course, but I’d rather not have to walk through HQ looking like this.”

She appraised him briefly– the longer she looked the more she noticed out of place, like the ascot at his neck, slightly skewed as if he’d not been looking in the mirror when he tied it. Finally, Villetta relented.

“Very well, Lord Jeremiah.”

His smirk widened.

“Thank you, Villetta, I’ll be waiting in my office.”

Not waiting for a reply, the margrave set off, and Villetta watched in utter bewilderment, as a chirpy tune flitted through the halls just as he turned the corner. Lord Jeremiah Gottwald was whistling… If ever there was a sign to run and hide.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Villetta approached the office door, the spare uniform she’d been sent for carried on a hanger, hidden by a pristine black suit cover, with the margrave's initials stamped by the top right corner.

Knocking on the door, she waited for an affirming reply before slipping inside and shutting it behind her. It was a wise move as the sight greeting her was certainly not meant for prying eyes. Lord Jeremiah was perched against the grand desk in the center of his office, stripped to the waste, with a generous amount of shaving cream slathered along his jawline and chin. He was twisted in an odd position, apparently trying to examine the wound at his side.

“Dammit all,” he said to her though he’d not looked up from his task, or attempted to acknowledge her in any way. “One of my stitches popped last night. Now, I’ve got to head down to see a medic. As if I haven’t been held up long enough today.”

“Exactly why were you late, Lord Jeremiah?” She took the opportunity, hanging the uniform across the back of a chair, next to his discarded shirt and jacket. It was now that she noticed the wrinkles in the garb, and come to think of it, his pants appeared to be in a similar state of disarray.

At that, Jeremiah merely shook his head, chuckling lowly, but neglecting to answer her question. He abandoned his examination and picked up a razor before heading toward the bathroom adjoined to the office. The door was already open, the light was already on.

“You can go ahead and report on the morning,” Jeremiah called from his place in front of the mirror, apparently set on ignoring her question. Then he began to shave.

“Of course,” Villetta answered dryly. She’d stepped to get closer to the bathroom so as not to shout about her updates. That was when her heart spiked as she noticed something vivid and red scraped along the line of her superior’s back and shoulder-blades.

“Lord Jeremiah!” She called before she had a chance to comprehend exactly what the marks were.

He turned on her, wide-eyed-- It seemed her tone had startled him, and he looked at her expectantly, foamy razor clutched in one hand, his other hand was propped against the sink.

And then it clicked, and Villetta was suddenly aware of a very strong urge to giggle. To avoid such an immature reaction, she raised a manicured finger to her mouth as if to physically pin her lips shut. This all certainly explained his uncharacteristically good mood. Seeing his questioning eye, however, Villetta dropped all pretense, recognizing that it was how this man operated best. She lowered her hand, setting it on her hip, then quirked an eyebrow.

“Those are some deep scratches on your back. Whoever she was, she must have really been enjoying herself.”

At these words, Jeremiah straightened, and turned slowly to face her completely, the glimpse of his back now entirely gone. Under the foam of the shaving cream, Villetta thought she caught sight of skin a shade redder than usual.

“Okay,” he said.

Villetta looked at him. In part, she couldn’t believe it. Not that the man had ventured out for some company, it was a common practice among the military. However, that Jeremiah Gottwald, of all people, might let a hook-up compromise his reputation at work, now, that was the harder pill to swallow.

It seemed the man in question was offering her explanation at last.

“I was with someone last night, I didn’t have an alarm. Normally, I’d wake up naturally, but I was so worn from yesterday…” he trailed off. Villetta nodded her understanding.

“It happens to the best of us, sir.”

Jeremiah paused. The razor was still in his hand, hanging limp by his side.

“I knew you’d understand, Villetta,” he’d already turned back to the task od shaving when she caught the stare of his orange eye in the mirror’s reflection.

“Another favor?”

“Well, yes, actually. Keep this between us, would you? The last thing I need is rumors about my love life making their way up to royal ears.”

Now, it was Villetta’s turn to smirk.

"Yes, sir," she said. And without further ado began her report. Business as usual. Definitely not trying to imagine whatever wild encounter the margrave had gotten up to that night.


End file.
